


Scorched Skin

by NeverBackDown001



Series: Fire and Flame(Ellick) [3]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapped, Outburst, Psychological Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:06:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29710686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverBackDown001/pseuds/NeverBackDown001
Summary: Ellie is kidnapped in the Middle East, and there is no other person who knows her better and how to find her, the catch? They have three days or shes dead, if she's not already.Just read the other parts please.
Relationships: Ellie Bishop/Nick Torres
Series: Fire and Flame(Ellick) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2170425
Comments: 15
Kudos: 40





	1. Taken

Nick didn't take the first call. He pretended not to hear it as he lay with his hands crisscrossed behind his back, fingers interlaced, running through his hair that needed a trimming, starting to grow unkempt, he would have to attack it with a wet comb soon enough to let the wedge lay flat. But Nick didn't care at this point, he hand't shaved his beard in a while, the well kept scruff starting to grow out rather nicely. 

The phone rang, he knew who was calling before he even look at the bright blueish white screen that brightened his dark room. It was just after two in the morning. They couldn't possibly have a case now? He had just gotten finished with the long hours of dull paperwork just after midnight, not even attempting to fall asleep, knowing the hours of darkness wouldn't come. 

The dark ceiling above seemed to shift slightly, as he blinked, letting the call go to voicemail, the hum dying and the screen dimming. If Gibbs, McGee or Kasie was to call again, he would know it was serious. One call meant, hey, I need something from you or there is a case. Two calls in under five minutes meant something was wrong, someone was hurt, you had to get to the office ASAP, even if that meant coming in your pajamas. 

His window was cracked open, the April breeze flowing through, cooling his skin as he shifted in the warm canvas sheets that felt like sandpaper against his skin. He would have bough new ones weeks ago but never got to the task. Lately it seemed, he was forgetting to do everything. Do the dishes, vacum his apartment, take his Jeep out for a well-needed wash and of course, trim his hair and beard. It slipped through the crevices of his mind. 

Why couldn't he remember to do these simple things? He could of course, blame it on how busy he had been. The paperwork, the spring slew of bad-guys that sprung up like weeds in a flower garden and they didn't have any chemical weed killer, having to pluck them out, one by one. 

The phone rang again. 

Blueish white light shooting up to the ceiling, Nick checked the digital alarm clock on the other bedside table. Nearly three in the morning. Turning in the sheets he fumbled for his phone, pressing the answer button blearily and putting the block up to his ear as the call connected. It was Gibbs. 

"Yeah Gibbs?" Torres said in a gruff, sleepy voice, even if he hadn't gotten a single wink of rest. 

"Torres, listen fast. You, me and McGee will be getting on a plane at the Navy airport, less than an hour, grab your gear." 

Nick blinked, letting the information sink into his brain. Why where they getting on a plane? Where where they going? Why? Simply why? 

"Where are we going, Gibbs?" 

A slight static, maybe Gibbs was already at the airport, Nick would never know. "Camp Denver, Pakistan. It's Bishop." Another round of static and the call disconnected, falling from his ear and onto the soft blanket. 

This could mean a thousand different things. Where they assigned to whatever case Bishop was working on over there and she needed help? Has she gotten hurt? Had she been taken by enemy forces? 

Worry and panic bubbled dangerously in his chest, like a stew over the stove, if unattended, it could froth over, burning and hurting anything in it's path. 

It took a moment for him to realize that he had to grab his gear, get dressed and get to the airport so he could get some damn answers. So he leaped out of bed, shoved on his clothes, swinging his go-bag around his shoulder, taking a couple of extra rounds and knvies(because if Bishop was hurt, and when he got his hands on the guy, he would take no hesitation in slicing the man's throat). Before he left his apartment, he stashed a handful of protein bars, knowing the flight to Pakistan would take hours, even on a Navy plane. 

Maybe it was a blur. Driving to the Navy airport(or was it a Marine one? He didn't know or care at this point), music blasting, so he couldn't keep his mind on Ellie and why he was going out to Camp Denver. If she was alive, dead or captured by enemy forces. He couldn't think about that so he turned the music up so that his thoughts echoed without sound in the canyons of his thought process. 

It all seemed to mix and mingled together, the street signs, a call from McGee that told him he really needed to get there because the plane was lifting off earlier than expected so Nick stepped on the gas and barreled towards the airport. A couple of yells from drunk passengers when he nearly ran them over. Nick ignored those drunken weirdos. 

Stepping out of his Jeep, his go-bag still around his shoulder and his boots hitting the ground, he sprinted towards the plane and up the steps, the dim lights showing the figures of Gibbs and McGee who looked rather grim and ghostly this early in the morning. 

"Nice for you to show." Gibbs said with a usual grunt. McGee just gave Nick a knowing nod, a same sort of fear mirrored in McGee's blue green eyes. 

"Why are we going to Camp Denver?" The question popped from his mouth. McGee and Gibbs shared a knowing look. A look that did not mean anything well by any sort of means. 

"Ellie was taken." 

Nick's brow furrowed and the worry in his chest buried further into his chest. "What do you mean taken." 

"Captain Kane said she was on a re-con mission, when the HUMV was taken under heavy fire. One survivor, Private First Class Sean Kyle, saw Ellie taken by a group of insurgents." 

More questions built up dangerously but he was forced to take a seat on the plane before it was to take off. 

Why was she on a re-con mission? She was a agent, not a freaking Marine? Why out of all the Marines they could have taken, they chose Ellie for this? Was the mission classified? Was she being tortured for information right now? Calling out his name but he couldn't get to her because his reach only stretched out so far? 

No. 

No. 

If he lost Ellie, he would lose himself. That information was very clear to him, translucent even. If Ellie died, Nick died too. No question, it was simple. 

The plane ride seemed much too short from DC to Camp Denver Pakistan, seven hours on pure jet fuel, the tiny window that Nick looked over as they passed oceans and rocky hills capped with layers of snow, edging around the coast of Africa and through most of the Middle East. Nick wished it would go faster. Every minute that went by meant that Ellie was being tortured by whomever had taken her. 

McGee and Gibbs where engrossed in some form of conversation that Nick was too busy to listen to. Too busy with the loud, roaring thoughts, trying to drain them out of the thought pool, but a new slew came as soon as it died. The worry and panic had seized his heart like an iron fist, grappling it dangerously, tipping on the edge of a nervous breakdown or panic attack. Yes he was panicking. 

Panicking because of how this could end? How many hostages had they saved in the past years? Not as many as they could have. Ellie would have some sort of statistic, because she was such a nerd and he loved her nerd superpower, the calculator in her bright mind and the light in her eyes when talking about nerd stuff. 

He couldn't lose that. 

No, it would kill him. 

The plane landed on the rough airstrip of Camp Denver, a wide assortment of sand colored buildings and gruff Marines barking orders, a panic mode set in the air. 

"Welcome Agents." Captain Matthew Kane shook their hands. "Sorry that it had to come to this, but we need all the help we can get." Kane led them to a sand covered tent where there was a long round table with a bunch of Marines shoveling folders and orders around.

"Can you tell us what happened Captain?" Gibbs asked as the Captain took a sip from a decorated mug(probably by some kids by the looks of it). 

"Agent Bishop and five other Marines where on a re-con mission to bring a witness back to camp. About twenty miles from the town, they where ambushed by a group of insurgents. You can talk to Private First Class Sean Kyle when he wakes, he saw Agent Bishop be taken." 

"A witness of what exactly?" 

Captain Matthew Kane looked uncertain. Like he wasn't sure what to say exactly. 

"Agent Bishop was assigned here for a reason, she was on a task force with the, task, of finding and taking down a ghost. Asif Abbas. And we believe he was the one who took her." 


	2. Faces of Evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this story there will be implied/referenced torture. If this triggers you, please skip , I do not want to trigger anyone and keep this space safe. Thank you.

Ellie awoke to the dim lights, that where much too bright, like the sun in your eyes when you woke after a heavy bout of sleep. Pain seeped through her shoulder and arms, she couldn't feel her fingers or toes. Where was she? 

"Nice of you to wake," A soft, yet gruesome to hear voice rang out quietly, a face appearing before her, crude scars down light skin speckled with freckles, reddish brown hair peeking out underneath a headwrap and dark, dark eyes. His English was rather good, a heavy accent she couldn't quite place. 

The events of the HUMV under attack, the bullets flying through the air, the blood curdling screams of the Marines, the marble colored eyes of the French Marine bearing into her own eyes. Accusing her. Pointing the ugly truth back at her because the truth was there. It was all her fault. She was the one who got him killed. 

Her hands where tied down, she was sitting in a wooden chair, her hands and feet bound by a foot of thick rope that scratched and burned her skin. Was she dead? Had she been taken. What surprised her was there was no gag stuffed in her mouth, no guards pointing guns in her direction. Simply the man with dark eyes and scar covered skin. Pain rang in her left shoulder,a cold trickle of blood down her skin. Had she been shot? All of it seemed to be blurry. 

"I am your only hope of surviving dear." The man said quietly, his emotionless eyes sinister and cruel, like one of a snakes. "You better keep your pretty mouth shut." He added before she could even think to open her mouth to say something. 

"Where am I?" She said in a creaky, raspy voice, as if she hadn't spoken in years, her throat burned with the words spoken. Everything hurt. The man reached up with a hand and titled her chin under fingers that scorched her skin, his touch burned, painful, searing, making her blood boil. Who was he? Where was she? Where they looking for her? His dark snake eyes searched hers, for an answer, she clamped her mouth shut, wanting to say something. 

"You are a prisoner and prisoners do not speak unless asked to." A hand brought down on her face, a cold brutal slap across her cheeks, pain searing up to her nose and behind her eyes. "You will give us information, if you comply, we will spare you a painful death and put you down rather...kindly. If you do not, you will suffer." 

Ellie only glared at him, angry, confused, struggling with the ropes that where bound her hands and feet, slowly cutting off the circulation. The man stood and washed his hands in a basin of cold water, Ellie craned her neck to get a better look at her surroundings. She was in a room of maybe ten by twenty feet, a crudely cut window caked in dust and grime, maybe on purpose or simply neglected. The floor was concrete tiles, covered in scraps of paper, dust and other bits of scrap and garbage. Underneath the weak looking door where several shadows, most likely those of guards. 

Why had she been taken? Where her friends alive? Did Sean make it out? Guilt wormed it's way into her heart. Those two little boys, Grant and Silas, probably wondering when their dad would come home. Ellie wished she had an answer for them. She wished she knew if Sean was alive because those two little boys deserved a loving father to take them fishing like his dad had, not a grave and a folded flag, only photos for memories and painful wishes that would never be granted. 

The man turned back to her, tilting her chin underneath his hand, peering down upon her. 

"You are wondering who I am?" His voice was soft, as if he was a teacher talking to a student. 

She nodded. She wanted to know who he was. She deserved to know if she was to die. 

"I am the man you where tasked to hunt. A man you have thirsted for blood since you laid eyes on the picture." 

Asif Abbas. Ellie's blood ran cold with the name ringing in her head. So this was him? A short, scrawny man with scars down his face and cold, empty eyes? She had seen children better built than this man. 

Ellie yanked her legs and arms, making the chair scuffle across the concrete floor, only to be slapped across the face again, a ring cutting into her cheek, digging into the flesh between her nose and cheek. 

"You are a prisoner." Abbas barked. "You will not speak, you will not move unless asked or we will kill you." His words bounced off the walls and sank into her skin, cutting the flesh like rather sharp knives. Curling her lips and biting her tougne, Ellie sat back, anger coursing through her veins, running like a Olympic sprinter. 

Abbas turned and grabbed something off the table, a gag and cover for her eyes. He wrapped it rather gently around her eyes, so that Ellie could only see the outlines of people and very little light, the gag tightened when she moved, learning this quickly. Panic arose. How was she to get out of this mess? Alive? She would rather die than give any lick of information. Not that she knew much of anything classified like nuclear codes or passwords to secure files. She didn't and they didn't know this. Ellie would be useless to them, she was just an agent tasked with getting his head off the most wanted wall, not much else. 

A bark of orders. Something of, get the cameras. 

They where going to send a message. The blindfold was so she didn't send any sort of secret messages. These men where cunningly smart. 

A hand tilting her chin again. "Don't worry little girl," A snide voice, darker than of Asif's. "I will make sure your friends watch as we cut your skin and bleed. I will make them suffer as you have made us." 


	3. Of Monsters and Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'sometimes the fire can be put out. But it doesn't mean you can't start another.'   
> -unknown

After the blood dropped to the chilly tile floor, the screams that would forever echo in Nick's mind, the anguish as they sliced her skin, Nick wanted to throw up. He wanted to find the nearest trash can because the video feed sickened him. His Ellie, his poor, poor Ellie chained, bound, gagged and blindfolded to a chair, blood sticking and staining her uniform, her boots torn, blonde hair dirty and soaked with sweat. All through a poorly resouloted video feed. 

Stumbling from the tent, he held his stomach. But hadn't he seen much worse? Hadn't he seen the very, very worst of chaos and humanity mingled together, creating the worst possible situations he had been thrown into? So why did this scar his memory? He could still hear her strangled screams, he knew, he knew she was trying to keep it together, but who would manage it? Not him, not even Gibbs, well, maybe Gibbs. 

Ten million dollars transferred to an account in Russia, seventy two hours or Ellie would die. But that didn't mean they wouldn't torture her for information during that time. 

Footsteps, dust rising up, Nick turned to look at McGee, a fearful look in his eyes. Clamping a hand on Nick's shoulder, McGee didn't say a word, and for a moment there was a mutual understanding between the two. Ellie would be killed before the time limit and they had to get her, like now. 

"McGee, we have to go and find these bastards." Nick grit his teeth, clenching his fists, the vein in his temple throbbing like Vernon Dursley's. 

"I know, but we can't, not just yet. We have agents from the NSA tracking the signal, it's down to a sixty mile radius." 

That was good news. But not good enough. 

"We have to find them." Nick said louder, the anger in his chest rising a tenfold. 

"Calm down Torres, she's strong." 

Nick furrowed his brow. How could Tim say that? How could Tim think that these guys wouldn't find a way to break her? Wether it be through physical or mental harm, torture that would destroy his Ellie. No-one was allowed to do that. 

"Are you kidding me McGee?" Torres said in a low, yet echoing voice, several people turned to look at them, a curiosity flashed in their searching eyes. "Do you really think they won't find a way to break her? These guys are trained, professional, they won't hesitate to destroy her." 

McGee put his hands up in surrender. "I know. I want to get these guys as much as you, but we cant' do that by barging into every house in a sixty mile range, it won't work." 

Gibbs came storming from the tent and interjected himself between the two before Nick could start yelling all the curses he could think of. 

"Both of you calm it. Bishop needs you finding her, not fighting. So either shut the hell up and do your damn work or take the next plane ride home." 

Nick couldn't even mumble a half-assed 'yes sir' before Gibbs stormed back into the tent, his fists clenched as well. 

Sitting on a concrete bench, Nick buried his face into his hands. How could anyone be so damn sickening? Cutting her skin as a man with reddish hair spoke into the camera, demanding ten million or the agent would be dead. Her strangled gasps of help, legs flailing. Those images would haunt him. But if she made out of this alive, how would she ever be the same? Torture changes people and the thought of it changing his Ellie was worse than the image of her bleeding, almost. 

\---

Everything was in black and white, as if all the color had been sucked out of Ellie's little world. The blindfold had been taken off, the gag loosened so that she wasn't choking on it, men laughing at her, pointing fingers and sneering, leering their ugly faces at her. 

"You learned a little lesson." A man in white said, holding a wickedly sharp knife, that was teeming with her blood. "Next time, we won't be so...merciful." His accent reminded her of the man with the marble eyes, so out of place in this world. Laughter echoed in her ears as she watched the blood drip from her forearms, clean slices of skin that stung in the hot night air. At least she was sure it was night time, the dirty little window was darkened, a sliver of moonlight shining down upon her. 

Ellie didn't say a word, but kept her eyes trained on the wall behind the three men in the room, trying to wall off the pain, but it stung, it stung and was terrible. 

"Americans." Asif sneered, his in the dim lights resembled one of a wolfs, his crude teeth shown through his upper lip curling in disgust. "Always so arrogant and sure of themselves. They think they can take our oil, take our resources then call us the terrorists. We are only fighting back." Asif said, with a wolfish growl in the back of his voice. 

But hadn't Asif attacked mostly Eastern European countries, such as Belarus and Hungary? Hadn't he murdered more than fifty people in a Russian city(if that intel was correct, she could never be sure with the CIA and their shady deals that went down in the unknown parts of the world that made them seem much darker) 

The third man in the room, considerably younger than the rest of them, with a neatly trimmed beard and brown eyes that seemed...remorseful? Almost sad as his gaze was turned upon Ellie with a pitiful frown. 

"Let's leave the girl for a while, we need scouts on top of the hills," The young man said in a low voice to Asif and the man holding the slick, blood coated blade in hand. They both murmured things beneath their breaths, things Ellie could not hear. Before departing, Asif glared at Ellie, a promising look of returning with worse forms of pain in his eyes. Ellie didn't take this as a lie, but as a scary truth. 

Alone in the darkness. Alone with nothing but the pain in her arms and the darkness to respond to her. There was obviously a guard on the other side of the door, these men weren't stupid, that much was very clear to her. 

Was her team looking for her? Had they called Gibbs and had he, Nick and McGee flown down here to rescue her before she met her experiation date that was hopefully not near? 

Rolling her head to her side, letting the pain in her arms and shoulders seep and embedd herself into the skin, Ellie closed her eyes, hoping to wake and discover this was all a hellish nightmare and she was back in her bunk at Camp Denver. But that wouldn't come. 

\---

When Ellie wakes, water is being thrown in her face, the hot sun shining through the dirty window, and the gag tightened so that she could bite down on the thick fabric, which she was sure that it was some form of cotton. Scanning her small surroundings she looked into the face of Asif Abbas, his empty eyes teeming with excitement. He was washing his hands in the little water basin. 

"When I was younger, at home," His voice seemed to take on a different accent, more Russian than whatever one he usually had. "My adoptive parents, they where from the Swat Valley, used to cook me meals while we watched sports." Asif said with a cheery tone. "And when I was ten, they where killed on a trip home, by a strike. Ten miles from it's original target." 

Asif walked closer to her, holding a rag. "No payment from your government, no apology, just spitting in our faces, thinking we where all bad. My parents, they adopted me, I was a mutant, white and Pakistani, not wanted during that time. They loved me. And your country killed them without mercy." 

Ellie would have been a college student during that time. How could this be her fault? 

"I'm sorry." Ellie managed to say through the gag, words choked out. Asif only raised a heavy eyebrow. 

"You are. I believe that. But you chose to work for the very same government, ones that think all Muslims are terrorists, that everyone but themselves are the monsters." 

Ellie shook her head. She didn't believe in what the government did. No. Her job was to protect people, not to serve the higher power. 

Asif leaned forwards and gently took the gag from her mouth, a sudden inhale and exhale through her nose. 

"i-don, I don't. I had a boyfriend." She gulped, remembering the bitter taste in her mouth. "He was accused of being apart of Al Qaeda, but I-, I proved he was an innocent man." 

Asif again, raised that heavy eyebrow and took a knife in hand from the table next to her. "I believe your words and actions. I am an honest man, Agent Bishop, I will not lie to you when I say that everyone here wishes for your blood. But I only wish for information." 

Placing the gag back into her mouth, ever so gently, like he was almost saddened by this. How could a man be sad when he was in charge of his actions? It didn't make sense to her. 

"So tell me, Agent Bishop, what is it that you know of Captain Matthew Kane? And don't lie, I can tell." 

Ellie shook her head. 

Asif only laughed when the blade sank into her thigh and a blood curdling scream echoed in the house, where no-one would be able to save her. 


	4. Belly of the Beast

Ellie groaned as the water again was splashed in her face, scalding hot this time, burning again, the groan turned to a yelp with the sudden pain that burned and itched her skin. It burned, almost like acid but it was most sure water.

"Rise and shine, it's been almost forty hours there Agent Bishop." The crueler voice of the man in white said, his eyes, which where just as empty as Asif's stared down at her. He was of West origin, pale skin and blonde hair tucked under a head wrap but had the accent of the countrymen here, thick and teeming with s's and t's, slurring them like that of a reptile. 

The gag was out, but her throat was sore, aching with pain. Ellie's skin felt like it had been set on fire, every inch of it red, burning, bleeding and she wanted to itch it, but every time she moved her hands, it felt like she was lifting an impossible weight with a single hand. Her leg burned from the knife of yesterday, wincing when she shifted on her weight a little. The men had only let her from her bounds when she had insisted on going to the bathroom, in the hopes of finding some means of escape. But to no avail that plan was. 

A part of Ellie had accepted that she was going to die here, alone. Another wanted to keep fighting until she would find her way home, whether it be in a casket or on a plane, wrapped in a seat belt. 

The man in white rubbed his hands together excitedly, like a boy on Christmas day, getting ready to play with the presents he had torn open. Ellie didn't appreciate the evil look planted on the man's face, his thin lips curled upwards, nose pinched like a bad smell and eyes crinkled like it wasn't his first time smiling before he started to torture someone. 

"Asif is a generous man, he is kind and empathetic, weak for such man." He spits on the concrete floor. "It holds him back, but I respect him." 

"You are all weak men. Terrorizing others for your own personal gain. It's sickening." It takes Ellie a moment to reply, knowing she'll be bitten back with the whole not allowed to speak unless told to thing that had been enforced rather quickly in the past couple of days. The man simply laughed. 

"Asif probably told you his cheesy, becoming of story. He had a good life compared to most who have suffered beneath the heavy foot of America. You people have destroyed our homeland, terrorized our people and when we retaliate, you play victim. The irony makes me sick as I make you." 

"I can't control what my government does. I only serve them because I want to help people." Ellie murmurs. It does not matter what she has to say on why she does what she does because the man holding the blood covered knife will not care or believe in what she has to say. It's all just excuses for him. 

He shakes his head, more blond brown hair peeking from beneath the wrap. He must have grown up here, lived here his entire life here and been victim to the darker preachings of Islam(very few of those who practiced this faith became terrorists, it was those who turned the Qaran into what they wanted to believe, so this man must have twisted his faith into his own personal gain) 

"I grew up with no-one, a white man in a country full of people who where wary and suspicious of me. I was an outcast in a welcoming, peaceful society. Only Asif managed to bring me out of the dark. Your country is the reason I had no-one." 

"I can't be the one to blame. You can't force the blame onto innocent people?" 

The man let out a grunt. "Just as you blame innocent Muslims who seek refuge in a 'peaceful country'." He made air quotes around the word peaceful country, making it a point in the fact that there was always a dark side to America, just as there was a dark side to the moon and to everything really. Ellie knew that there could be no thing with pros and not have cons and cons that could not ever have pros. It didn't work like that, the scales had to be balanced and in check, or someone would get hurt. Either way, someone got hurt. 

When Ellie didn't respond, the man took it as if she did. He shoved the gag back into her mouth without warning and swung a fist at her face, a rocketing explosion of pain in her eyes, white creeping around the edges of her vision. 

"That is for my country-" Another punch, but this time to her chest, effectively knocking the wind from her, stealing all the air she had left. "And this is for Asif and his empathy." Another punch to the face, making her groan with anguish, blood trickling down her chin, and onto her ripped clothing. 

Why her? Why her? It made her eyes water, tears on the edge of falling but she kept them at bay, forcing the rising plume of emotions down her throat in a strangled, choking gasp that nearly made her break. She would not break. She would not give them anything they wanted, she would never do anything that would make them even a pinch of pleased. 

No. 

Ellie was stronger than that. Raised on a farm, she learned to take the haul, do the dirty work and not complain. 

She was strong because she had been taught to be. She would make those who had taught her proud. Gibbs, her dad, Vance, her brothers. People who had let her down and lifted her up. 

"You will give us information on Captain Kane and before the seventy two hours. Just because Asif and Terry shows you some form of mercy, does not mean I do the same." A growl, a slap across her face and shoving the blindfold over her eyes. Darkness that fell quickly. Stomping of boots. 

"No." She managed to say through the gag, that was covered in her blood and saliva. 

"Yes." He snapped. "Yes you will. Your little comrades haven't responded to our communications, you have no hope of survival, and besides, what is the harm in telling us when you will all meet a painful death anyways." 

No. 

She would not give them anything. 

Ellie could only hope and pray that her friends found her before she would meet that promised, painful end everyone seemed to be talking of. 

\---- - - - -- - - - -- - - -- - - -- - - -- - - - - -- - - - -- - - - - - -- 

"Where are we?" Gibbs said as he entered the dusty tent, carrying three cups of coffee and handing one to Nick. He had barely gotten a wink of sleep since they landed over a day ago. Not that sleep would have done anything, with all the worried thoughts that where like venom in his veins. 

"Well boss, we're running down a lead on the witness Bishop was going after on the re-con, Terry Wedges, a immigrant from Germany." The face of Terry Wedges appeared on screen, a smaller man with a trimmed beard and bright blue eyes. He had moved from Berlin to the Swat Valley when he was seventeen, changed his beliefs and pretty much went off the grid, moved to the the little merchant town fifty five miles from here. 

Nick absorbed the information as he sipped his coffee. Was Bishop's convoy ambushed because she was going out to find the witness or simply because they where found wandering through enemy territory? Was someone out for certain bits of information? It would cause risks of national security if so. 

"Torres, I want you talking to Private First Class Sean Kyle, me and McGee will follow up on Terry Wedges." 

"What? No, I'm going with you." 

Gibbs shook his head. "No. Talk to Private Sean, he saw Ellie be taken and has information." 

When Nick opened his mouth to argue he received a painful slap on the back of the head, a curt nod and a coffee cup being thrown into the trash. He really did hate it when Gibbs did that, but he took it as a sign of affection and not anything else. 

Private First Class Sean Kyle was pretty banged up, two gunshot wounds in his legs and shrapnel in his arms and chest, but the guy would make it, and was going home for surgery in a few days.

"You Bishop's co-workers?" He said weakly as Nick shook his hand gently, his blue eyes trained on Nick, despite probably being in pain, they where alert and very awake. 

"Yes, we are here to get her back, I have a couple questions for you if that's alright." 

Sean nodded, managing to sit up in the hospital bed in the tiny tent hospital the base had set up. "Of course, anything I can do." 

Nick brought out the little notepad and pencil, his hand hovering over the paper as Sean spoke. 

"We where out on a simple re-con, get the witness and bring him back to camp for interogation. But about twenty kilometers out, we came under heavy gunfire, about three kilometeres from our convoy." Sean gulped and Nick saw his fists clench in the sheets, like remembering was painful, it probably was. "There was an explosion, I don't know how it happened but it killed half our squadron. But i saw Bishop, I saw her. Three men, they took her and loaded her in an old pickup. It was green with studded tires." 

Nick managed to write all this down, not knowing if Bishop had survived the explosion out of luck or they had taken her on purpose, if they needed her for a reason. 

"How did you manage to contact camp?" 

Sean's eyes darted around a little. "I got my hands on one of my....friends...radio. Took a while but I got the word back. They picked me up and I told them everything." 

Nick believed him, all of it. The way his eyes darted around when he spoke of the attack and the clenched fists, with the vein in his temple throbbing, like he was pissed off at everything, including himself. 

"Thank you, you've done a lot." 

Before Nick could leave, Sean reached out and grabbed his wrist, for a man with plenty of injuries and nearly bled to death, he was strong. 

"You find her. She...promised to meet my kids, she was a sister to me." Sean said in a low breath that was almost scary-like. 

Nick nodded. "Of course." He promised. 

But could Nick keep that promise? He hoped so. 


	5. Dying Fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took hours to write, I kept stumbling upon plot-holes and into voids of not knowing what to write next, my fingers teeming on the edge of insanity as they hovered above my keyboard, the pads of my fingers are sore and burn with pain. I hope you enjoy,writing is my sanctuary and I invite you for a welcomed stay.

She was like a dying fire, slowly being choked by the airless world, slowly burning out to nothing but coals and dead sparks, she was a dying fire. Something that could be rekindled, yes, but could either come back as a blazing bonfire on the beaches of a college camp-out or a weak stuttering flame that was smothered by the gentle spring breeze. 

Ellie felt like her fire inside her was dying. It had been long since she could feel her left leg where the knife had pierced the skin, long side her face felt right, probably red from the burn of the scalding water, her forearms where cut and slashed, face bruised. It all was a complicated yet simple web of pain that ebbed inside her, pulsing stronger than her heartbeat. 

During the night, she had a visitor. The younger man who seemed to be the dog of the operations, lower, their scum to pick on. He had a kind face with smile lines, creaking brown eyes, a soft look in them. In his hand he held a platter of bread and a plastic cup of water. As soon as he entered the door, Ellie was on high alert, woozy with pain yes, but alert because she didn't know what he could do. 

Bringing the cup of water to her face, he gently took the gag from her mouth, falling around her neck. He held the cup of water to her lips, using his other hand to tip her head back. 

"Don't worry," He said in a gentle voice, almost sad and empathetic. "It is just water." 

Ellie took the water carefully, it was a little warm, but she drained the cup, it had been the first thing she had since, well, breakfast before she left to retrieve the witness. Her stomach rumbled in hunger. 

The man broke off a piece of bread and she took it, it was a little crusty, stale, but it was something. 

"I am sorry for the way my brothers have been treating you. No woman should suffer at the hands of men." He whispered, sitting on the little stone chair on the edge of the house once Ellie both finished the water and bread. 

Ellie raised an eyebrow. "What is your name?" She whispered through parched lips, her throat, despite the water, was bone dry.

"They call me Ahmed, but my name was Terrance." The man said, his gaze flickering from Ellie to the floor constantly, like he was afraid to look her in the eyes. 

"Why-, why do they call you-you Ah-Ahmed?" Ellie asked, hoping to get a response and glad to be striking up friendly conversation, well, it perceived to be freindly, but would it end friendly? Would this seemingly kind man turn into a rage monster, his claws shredding at her soul? 

Ahmed shifted in the stone seat, playing with the hem of his shirt. "I could not be two people at once. So they gave me new name." 

It was both confusing and understandable. He could not be Terrance and Ahmed, but he had to be one, one person. 

Ellie wished she could be one person, not all the faces she had grown accustomed to.

But maybe everyone was really split inside, deep down like she was, struggling to find the facade that fit. Maybe everyone was always searching for something to fill an endless, infinite void of dark and shadow. 

"You aren't from here," She deduced. That was obvious, the way he used his j's and n's, made him somewhere from Europe, Ellie knew that, working with the NSA had given her insight on how people talked, dialects of English, Spanish, Arabic and Russian(The main languages that came easy to her) 

Ahmed's beady eyes again, kept darting to and fro like a constant race, back and forth, a pattern of one second here, another there, never breaking the simplicity of the pattern. 

"No," He murmured after a long note of silence. "I was from Germany. My parents moved here for work many some years ago." 

That's an odd move, quite a jump from West Europe to Pakistan, almost two thousand miles of distance, land and water, over an entire sea and mountain range even. Ellie felt afraid to as why, and to ask. 

"You aren't like the others, Ahmed." Ellie began, in the hopes that this man would show her a little more kindness. "If my friends come looking,please, please tell them where I am." 

Ahmed shook his head instantly, his close cropped hair swinging down from it's smoothed down position, and into his eyes, a fearful look mirrored in them. 

"No no, they will kill me, imprison me. I will be a man children fear." Ahmed said in a loud whisper, his eyes screwed up like the wild jungle, mixed and mingled with many things. How would Ellie be able to convince the man her friends would be grateful he gave them her location, in their eyes he would be the hero, not the villain of the story told. 

"No, they will, will, " She coughed, her throat still dry, lips parched. "They will thank you. They may even let you take safe passage to the city." 

Ahmed's eyes rose, from the ground, bright as the sun in a cloudless sky. 

"The city?" He said with a childlike wonder in his eyes, a kid on Christmas morning,seeing his presents wrapped around a dazzling tree that was glistening with bulbs and needles. 

"Yes, the city," Ellie's voice became strained, her eyes hurt. "They will thank you. You will have done them good service. The city is not far from here, I promise you." Ellie hoped he knew she was talking of Islambad, the capital city of Pakistan, only a megre few hours from Camp Denver, due north. She had been during her NSA post, it had been amazing, a beautiful city. 

"Please," She pleaded. "Please help me." 

A count of three, maybe four went by, her luck was going to run out wasn't it? She had gotten bread, water even, but she would not get out of here. It would never happen. Ahmed was silent. 

"I cannot." He said in a frail whisper. "I am sorry." He placed the gag back into her mouth gently before she could lift her jaw to respond, and covered her eyes with the blindfold, darkness falling quickly into place, his footsteps sounding on the concrete and the frail door shutting quietly behind him. 

Ellie felt like sobbing, collapsing into heaving mess of tears and cries of help that would never be replied to. 

She was going to die and she didn't want to. 

There was so much more to life than what she had lived up until now. More than just her job, her ex's and home. She wanted to go on adventures, go sky-diving, go snorkeling in the Pacific. She looked back on it and was dissapointed. 

She could have done more until now. 

But she had not. 

"Please." She whispered through the gag, barely a croak to anyone who could hear it. "Please help me." 

Who would help her? Had her team come down from Washington to go and rescue her? Or where they at home, deliberatley in the dark of what was happening to her? Was Nick, her Nick in the arms of another girl, forgetting she ever existed or was he here trying to bring her home? 

Her Nick. 

She loved him, no matter how hard she tried or how much distance she put between them, she still loved him with every inch of her soul, every centimeter of her heart. All of it belonged to him. There was no going back on that. He didn't know that she would do anything for him without a second thought in her mind. 

A single tear, dropped down her red, bruised, burned cheek. Dropping onto the slick blood coated floor. 

\- -- - - -- - - - -- - - -- - - -- - - ------ -- - -- - - - - - - - - -- - - - - -- - - - - - -- ---- -- - - - - - 

Almost sixty three hours. That was how long Ellie had been missing so far. 

Of how many of those hours could they have found her? How many of those hours had she been brutally tortured by a man who had killed dozens without mercy or empathy in mind? Thinking of the many possibilites would drive him crazy, but it was all he could do. 

Ellie wouldn't give information, he knew that. She was strong, but how strong? How strong compared to a man devoid of mercy? 

"Nick." McGee shook his shoulder for the fourth time that hour. "C'mon, we're going to the village." 

Nick shook himself from that stupor he kept tumbling into blindly. Tugging on the combat boots, he strapped the ankle knife to his skin, that one, he would use on whoever was hurting Bishop, personally. Ten hours ago, Gibbs and McGee had come back from the explosion sight and met a woman who gave them vauge but helpful descrptions of the cars and men who had taken Ellie to the village. 

Three hours ago they had gotten a well needed lead. 

_Captain Matthew Kane, a firm, stoic man had lead them back into the same dusty tent they had been briefed in when they arrived, a sat video feet and Director Vance onscreen._

_"Sir." All three of them had greeted the Director before the well-respected man begun to speak._

_"How is your progress in finding Agent Bishop?"_

_Nick hesitated. "We have a few directions to go in, we have twelve hours until the deadline."_

_Director Vance did not seem pleased. "I do not like the fact that one of my best agents is being held hostage in unknown enemy territory. I want Agent Bishop, back and not in a body bag." The Director's eyes where dark, firm, without hesitation Nick knew that this wasn't an order, it was a life or death kind of thing. Nick would gladly give his life for Bishops. No question there in mind._

_"I have news. There is a translator, a woman named Nadia, she will be waiting for you at the explosion sight, she had information on where Asif Abbas and his crew may be hiding out. I want you leaving before sundown."_

_Nick took a quick glance outside the tent square flap, the sky dimming slowly, red streaks criss-crossing the ever so blue sky that hung overhead. Time seemed to slip through his fingers more quickly. That was not a good thing._

_"On it sir."_

Now, Nick was going to get Ellie. No matter what it took, he was going to go and get her. Even if it meant carrying her across the desert, alone, with nothing but her by his side 

"You ready?" McGee said from across the tiny bunk room the three of them had been sharing the past day, not that any of them had gotten any sleep. 

"I'm getting her back, Tim." He replied firmly. "I don't care about rules here, I'm getting her back." It was more statement than question. 

Tim nodded in understanding. "I know. I'm not holding you back, and neither should Gibbs. I don't think he will care. All we want is Bishop back." 

Maybe Tim was thinking of his time in Paraguay, the time spent on the ship, spent hungry, scared and well, not alone, with Gibbs, but still in the feeling of trapped, a mouse in a cage, his life channeled out by a man above. 

"This wasn't supposed to happen," Nick twisted his lips in a dark frown. "This wasn't supposed to..." He trailed off, not quite knowing what to say. 

McGee clamped a comforting hand to Nick's shoulder, like a brother would do. A brother that doesn't fight but makes peace. "We'll get her back Nick, stop running the what if's, it only makes it worse." 

Gibbs came into the tent and ordered them out to the HUMV, Nick steadied those bouncing, running, jumping nerves on every inch of his skin and bone. He was going to go get her back, no question asked. He was going to get her back if it meant taking him for her place. 

"I'm coming for you El,"

\-- -- - - -- - - - - - -- - - - - - -

"I'm not telling you anything," Ellie rasped through clenched teeth, the wet gag hanging from her chin and a murderous look mirrored in her eyes, Asif standing over her. 

"I have shown you mercy, Agent Bishop," He snarled, his lips curled upwards like something of a wolf. "I have kept my men from you and their wandering hands, a piece of fine meat like you would do fine. But you need to give me something." Asif leered, those empty eyes now filled with iredescent rage 

"I do not know anything," She grit her teeth, trying to scoot back where she was on the concrete floor, the chair broken and in splinters a few feet away. Her hands where bloodied and the rope around them was loose, but there was no point in fighting back when she could barely stand. 

"Yes you do. You know the coordinates of the next attack, you know where Captain Kane has set the attack. Now I want answers." 

But she did not know. Everything was on a need to know basis, not know weeks and weeks before. She was just an agent, not a Marine, not a leader, not someone special. Ellie was just...Ellie. 

"I...am not a Marine, I'm an agent," She croaked, brushing the hair from her eyes, as she curled up against the wall, eyes not leaving Asif, his sickening gaze. 

"I know." Asif spat on the ground. "You are useless then. Useless as a piece of rag. I should have taken the Marine." 

Was he talking about Sean, or any of the other Marines in that convoy? Was Sean even alive? Probably not. But the Marine who's name she didn't know and marble eyes burned in her mind, was dead, dead as a door-nail. She didn't even know his name yet his death weighed like a thousand pounds on her shoulders. Those marble eyes, so strange, yet so beautiful. 

Eyes that where unseeing. 

Eyes that where blank and dull, without life or color. 

Eyes that where dead. 

Before Asif raised the gun to her head, Ellie put her hands up. 

"No, I can tell you one thing." She said, hoping it would draw his attention for a moment. 

"You have two minutes." Abbas decided after a moment of silence, moonlight bouncing off his face in the dirty window, it must be late at night again. Time seemed to slip from her fingers more quickly. 

"I was apart of a Special Op team, to send data to my boss and to the government. I overheard Kane talking about.." Ellie licked her lips, trying to gain sense of what she was trying to say. "it's in the city, just a little north of Islambad, they want to take out a nuclear plant." She gulped, the lie souring her mouth. Asif seemed to believe her words, maybe it was because there was a gun leveled at her head. 

"You've done me a great service, Agent Bishop." 

Ellie pressed her palms against the cool tile, her fingernails digging into her flesh, the pain was much less than the stab wound in her thigh and the cuts, abrasions and bruises flowing along her skin, making patterns of yellows, purples, greens and reds, like a Christmas tree lighting up in a parlor window. 

"I'm sorry that you are going to die a traitor." Asif cackled, like a witch. 

But he would never fire the gun, his finger would never hover on the trigger. 

Gunshots rang out, bullet after bullet firing in the distance, drawing Asif's attention away. Where they coming for her? Did they find her in this dank, damp house? 

"Your lucky day," Asif sneered, his foot flying into her chest before a snide response could come from her lips. Pain exploded in her chest, expanding and expanding until it was all she could feel. 

Shouts in all languages, gunfire, screams, bodies falling to the dusty floor. 

Ellie knew that was happening, without even having to look, Asif running in the other direction, like a dog with it's tail in between it's legs. 

A trickle of blood fell down from her mouth and chin, dribbling onto the stained uniform that had been long ripped, torn and barely hanging off her shoulders. 

Her vision kept blurring, white crawling around the edges, pain searing in every inch of her body, it was all just....pain. There was no other word for her, it all hurt, ached, throbbed with such anguish. 

The door burst open. 

A figure, tall(well tall to her, she was collapsed on the floor, dying) 

"Ellie!" 

That voice, that warm, warm voice that made her heart leap with joy, that voice meant everything would be alright, that she wouldn't die here. 

"He-hey," She murmured, his hand on her cheek, another on her throat, gently checking her pulse, which was probably weak. 

"You're okay," Nick promised, his soft eyes burning with rage, probably from the what they had done to her. "We're going home, you're safe," His arms wrapped around her, cradling her in his lap, hands pushing back the curls as a soft kiss was pressed to her forehead, but it was all losing focus, like a bad camera lense. 

"You're okay," He whispered. 

And then there was nothing at all. 


End file.
